Spirited Beings
by Tidia
Summary: Brotherhood AU Twist. Dean & Sam go to NYC to investigate a strange death involving a man who was a memeber of the Spiritist religion. Dean & Sam join the group to solve the mystery with Mac's help.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Spirited Beings

By: Tidia

Disclaimer: The Brotherhood was created by Ridley C. James, and I thank her for allowing me to play. The rest is Supernatural.

Author's Notes: Mog sent me an article about the Spiritist religion a few months ago, and now I had the opportunity to write a fic with it. Some of the quotes are actually from the article. All mistakes are my own. Reviews are always wonderful and appreciated.

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Part 1

Rick kept his hands up where the robber could see them. He wished he could reach the silent alarm, or the guy could just take the money and leave. He hated working the late shift, the extra money wasn't worth the risk. This was the second time in 3 months he had been held up.

"Just take it!" Rick yelled.

He saw the man flinch, and he seemed to curl in on his right side. The gun wavered to the side.

Rick noticed the hesitation in the robber, slowly brought his hands down and found the silent alarm button. He hoped the police would be there soon.

"Help me, there's something inside of me," the man whispered, his bearded face was dripping sweat.

Rick swallowed. The previous occasions were a smash and grab. There was never any conversation. But Rick wanted the gun out of his face and wanted to go home.

"Ahh put the gun down, Man." Rick's voice cracked from the nervousness of the situation. He nodded his head to give extra encouragement when his voice failed.

The bearded man started laughing, but the gun was firmly pointed again at Rick. "No, no, no."

Rick could hear the sirens. The police were close. "I don't want to die." Rick felt the tears streaming down his face. He had never been so scared.

"Winston wants you to die." The robber stopped laughing and fired.

Rick moved, the bullet catching his arm. The wound burned and he collapsed to the floor and promptly passed out.

The police arrived at the scene at the same time, witness to the shooting. "This is the police! Drop your weapon!" was announced through the speakers of the responding police car.

The perpetrator started laughing, then sobbing, then laughing again. Shaking, he pointed the gun at the police car, and fired once. The officers returned fire, striking him in the chest. He remained standing for a moment, then crashed to the ground in a heap.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

Dean and Sam pulled up to the apartment building in the SoHo section of New York City. Dean circled around the block, becoming frustrated.

The younger Winchester relaxed back into the passenger seat, knowing they were not going to find a parking space anytime soon. "I told you, we should call Mac, park the Impala at his building and then just take. . ."

"Don't say it," Dean interjected with a growl.

Sam smiled and completed his thought. "Public transportation."

"It's insulting." The older hunter replied, taking a left turn down a narrow street in the hopes of finding a parking space off the beaten track.

"It's how people get around in the big city," the darker haired hunter explained. He was ready for a change from the usual, and the New York City transit system would be a change.

"Got one!" Dean exclaimed triumphantly as he saw a man unlock his Lexus LX460. The man seemingly took his time leaving the parking space, making six minute turns in order to extricate his car from the space. "Amateur." Dean stated as in one fluid move the older Winchester parallel parked the Impala. It was however, over four blocks away from their destination.

"So this guy—"

"Jeffrey Simmons,"

"Lived on the fifth floor." Dean checked the dead man's name. "And he held up some guy at a gas station and said he was possessed, and then speaks in the third person using a name that is not his. Right, I remember, Sam." They circled around to the back entrance. The front door was secured with a buzzer. The rear entrance just had a lock, which could be easily picked.

"Right, he never exhibited strange behavior before. There's no Winston in his family." Sam recited the small page seventeen article verbatim, looking around to make sure no one else was viewing the breaking and entering. "He was a bond trader."

"I would go crazy if I were a bond trader." Dean commented as they went up the stairs. Yellow tape covered the door of Simmons's apartment. With a razor blade Sam cut away the tape, and then picked the lock.

The older Winchester whistled when the entered the luxurious apartment. There were paintings on the wall, wood floors and a shiny stainless steel state of the art kitchen. But, the focal point was the large flat screen television in the living room. "On the other hand, how much did this guy make?"

"A lot." Sam nodded, knowing that the profession could bring in the mid six figures.

"Dean Winchester, bond trader."

The younger Winchester shook his head. "Okay, why does that sound like a crime?"

"Shut up." Dean replied, heading over to the built in book case. He let his hand nimbly go down the spines of a few books. "Hmm, The Spirits Book by Allan Kardec, and some books on New Age religions and channeling." The older hunter pulled The Spirits Book and handed it to his brother.

Sam flipped through the book. "Says Franz Anton Mesmer isthe father of a religious movement called Spiritism."

"That's like seancing and shit." Dean continued to walk around the room, taking a trip into the bedrooms too. He picked up a picture of two kids laughing, and held it up for his brother to see. "Do you think he did that stuff here?"

Sam went into the kitchen and opened the cabinets. "Nothing here."

Dean did the same in the bathrooms. "Maybe the neighbors heard something? If this guy is having séances. . .that could explain a lot."

The younger Winchester closed the pantry door, and made sure the place looked undisturbed. He followed his brother and knocked on the door across the hall. "We're friends with Jeffrey Simmons." He announced to the set of eyes that peered through the door, which was only opened a crack because of the chain. The door shut, and the brothers heard a distinct, "Yes, thank you God!" before the door was unlocked.

"Hi!" The blonde curly haired woman smiled at them. She quickly brushed her long hair off her face with her hand.

"Hi, we're friends of Jeff, next door." Sam started.

"No, you can't be. You're hot. . ." the woman interrupted.

"Thanks, but," Dean grinned, stepping forward.

"God, you're freaks too?" She threw her hands up in the air. "Part of that group of whatever down in Hells Kitchen? He was always trying to get me to go. . ."

"Hell's Kitchen? Not in his apartment?" Sam tried to get a word into the woman's litany.

"God, not here. They believe in the Spiritist something or other. I'm Episcopalian." She sighed and looked at them again. "Are there more like you? 'cause I can be open minded, maybe, try something new?"

"No, sweetheart, but you know maybe we can have our own Spiritist meeting at your place sometime," Dean stated, leaning against the frame of the door.

She seemed to swoon. "Yeah, ahh, sure, there aren't any sacrifices involved or anything? Ahh, well, Lisa, 5,5,5,6,2,4,3."

The older Winchester punched it into his cellphone. "Thanks, Lisa. I'll call you."

She bit her lip, and nodded. The door clinked silently shut. They heard a thumping noise and then, "thank you, thank you!"

Sam laughed, and Dean shook his head. They exited the building, and talked as they walked back to the car. The hustle and bustle of New York City streets afforded them privacy they were usually lacking in small towns where it seemed people could easily overhear their conversations.

"So what do you know about the Spiritist religion?" Sam asked his brother, trying to keep close and avoid other people on the crowded sidewalk.

"Not much." Dean shook his head, glad to see the Impala in sight. He smiled at his brother. "Sounds kind of cultish. . ."

"And we do know an expert." Caleb Reaves had somehow overtime collected inside information about cults. He was The Brotherhood's resident expert.

Dean pulled out his cellphone.

Caleb answered on the first ring. "Deuce, where are you?" The older Winchester pulled the phone away from his ear, and faced it outwards so Reaves could hear the sounds.

"You're in New York?" Caleb said when Dean returned the phone to his ear. "Are you going to stay with Mac?"

Sam was nodding, having heard the question. Dean shook his head. "I didn't want to bother him." The older Winchester cared about his friends too much to put them at risk. He wanted to limit their exposure to possible dangers.

"Deuce, bother him." Reaves insisted. "He really likes being bothered, I should know. Then of course if you don't, I'll tell him you're in town."

"So you're going to get us on Mac's bad side? Okay, fine, fuckin' blackmailer." If they didn't and the psychic followed through on his threat then Dean had a feeling Ames would hunt them down. He heard Caleb chuckle. "We're blue collar, Damien. You, Josh and Mac are white collar. We go into that swanky building and it's like the poor, white trailer trash relatives are coming to visit."

"It's not like that. You are a step above Bobby," Caleb retorted.

"That makes me feel so much better. Bobby lives in a junkyard." Dean returned to the subject at hand. They were committed to staying with Mac. He couldn't deny his brother. "Listen, what do you know about the Spiritist religion?"

"You got something involving them? They're harmless freaks, actually they serve coffee and donuts at their meetings, which you know the last one didn't do." Caleb paused.

Dean fidgeted, remembering they almost had lost Caleb because a cult decided to poison him.

Reaves continued, "I went to a meeting in Astoria about ten years ago, don't know if I really believe anything is going on…I don't think they were calling any spirits or if they did it wasn't a direct line. You want me to come up?" Reaves asked before providing any additional information.

"No, Damien, I think Sam and I can handle a group that hands out milk and cookies." Dean rolled his eyes at his brother as he sat in the front seat of the Impala.

"Spiritists combine good ol' Christianity with reincarnation. They think people can be guided to better lives by mature spirits. There are about 100,000 members in the United States, and from what I hear it's growing."

Dean snorted. Caleb tried to keep his intelligence hidden, much like Dean, but when he spoke about one of his interests-architecture, bridges and cults, he was unable to hide his passion for learning. "Man, you can so give Sam a run for his money in Geeksville."

Sam frowned at his brother not appreciating the comment.

"Good luck, Deuce. Between Sam and Mac you'll be outnumbered." Caleb laughed.

Dean cringed. Mac would provide them with free food and lodging, but in turn the older Winchester knew it would feel like a library with classical music in the background. He was going to suffer. "Thanks," he replied sarcastically. Since their father had died, Reaves had been more concerned about their well-being. Dean would even say over-protective. "Hey, be careful. We're too busy to come to save your ass." He meant it more as a warning to the psychic to think of his own well-being too.

"You wish, more like I'll be coming to the rescue." Caleb answered.

"Dream on, Super Damien." Dean retorted, closed his phone and looked over to his brother, seated in the passenger side. "Call Mac," he said as he started the Impala's engine.

Sam smiled, and happily dialed the number. He felt a kindred sprit in the other man who had encouraged him to go to college, even though the experience had not fully come to fruition. "Mac, it's Sam." The younger Winchester announced himself.

"I neither see nor hear from you in quite a long time, but suddenly twice in a few months. This is an unexpected pleasure, or is it business?" the neurosurgeon asked.

"Business," Sam sighed, wishing more than anything their life didn't revolve around the hunt.

"And you need a place to stay?" Ames assumed correctly.

"If you wouldn't mind. . ." Although they had been family friends for a long time, Sam still felt uncomfortable asking Mac for anything. It was a remnant of their father, who only turned to his friends when in the direst of need.

"I don't, but boys, I like where I live. I would like to live here for awhile longer and there really aren't that many places left for me to go. . ." Ames explained, but Sam didn't understand.

"Are you trying to tell us something, Mac?"

"Yes, no bloody bodies or bullets."

Sam laughed and relayed the information to his brother.

Dean pressed the speakerphone button on his brother's phone. "Your son had more to do with that than us. . ."

"Agreed," Sam interrupted, and looked at his brother.

"Sure."

Mac directed them to enter to the rear entrance of his building. He would tell the guards to buzz them into the garage and the Impala could pull next to Mac's own Range Rover.

The brothers felt uncomfortable as they went up the mirrored elevator to the fifteenth floor. The whole building had an understated elegance, which still screamed money, something the boys always did without.

Mac was waiting for them, door open. He enveloped then in a hug.

"Thanks, Mac," Sam stated after giving the old family friend a pat on the back.

"No thanks needed at all. Make yourselves comfortable. Dean you can take Caleb's room, and Sam, you can take the guestroom." Mac pointed the rooms out to the boys where they could deposit their bags.

Sam set up his laptop, picking up an excellent signal on his laptop. He quickly found out the location and time of the gathering of the Spiritists. Mac was passing Dean some packages from the refrigerator when he went to join them in the kitchen.

"There's a meeting tonight." The youngest hunter took a seat at the table and unfolded the white wax paper covering the assortment of deli meats.

"Meeting?" Mac took two slices of bread and passed the loaf to Dean.

"Not ready for those twelve steps yet," Dean stated. He took two slices of the pumpernickel and passed it along to Sam, who slid the mustard to his brother. "Spiritists."

Mac piled on a few slices of the corned beef, then patiently waited for the spicy mustard. His son had called him immediately after the doctor had spoken to Sam. "Caleb says they're harmless."

"You spoke to Caleb?" Dean looked up from the ham sandwich he was creating.

Ames winced. He knew the Winchesters did not like to be a topic of conversation. "He wanted to make sure you called."

Dean stood up. "You're son needs to back off." He walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out three bottles of Sam Adams, handing one to each of the hunters while keeping one for himself.

Mac accepted the beer. He would have to restock his food and beverages during the brothers stay. He defended his son, knowing Caleb's priority was the well-being of the Winchesters. "I would say the fact that he isn't coming here shows he is giving you space. He, I, everyone just wants to help." He looked imploringly at Sam. The younger Winchester was always more willing to accept assistance.

Dean glanced at his brother, then returned his attention to Ames. "And we want to make sure you're all protected, not involved in this mess." Dean bit into his sandwich.

"Just like your father." Mac grinned. He was not going to admit defeat. These boys needed their friends, even though they were being myopic.

"Guess so." Dean wiped at the corned of his mouth with his fingers, licking the mustard that had transferred from his mouth to his fingers.

"I don't know if that was one of his finer traits." Mac replied as he bit into his sandwich and chewed slowly.

Sam laughed, watching the exchange while making a turkey sandwich. "I think stubbornness is a requirement in The Brotherhood." It was funny how the dynamics had changed overtime as they had grown. When they were younger, Mac was idolized and placed on a pedestal. His place in The Brotherhood held mystery made more so by Mac's measured words. The brothers always heeded his directions. Now, they were more apt to follow their own counsel, and share their opinions, especially Dean who had found a strong voice in himself.

"Maybe so," the doctor agreed. "I'll stay out of your way. I'm working with the NYPD on a case . . ."

Sam found Mac's use of his psychic abilities fascinating. He never heard much about this facet of the doctor's life and began peppering him with questions. Ames was more than obliging.

"I'm in hell," Dean muttered, picked up his sandwich and went into the den to watch television and eat his sandwich in peace.

TBC  
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	2. Chapter 2

**Spirited Beings Part 2**

**Disclaimer: The Brotherhood created by Ridley. And Supernatural be Kripke**

**Notes: Thank you so much for the reviews! I hope I have answered each one. I had to adjust this part because I want to keep it current with the episodes. And I may, have to see how it works out, add Caleb at the end.**

Part 2

Later that evening the brothers found themselves outside of a building which advertised dance and acting rehearsal space. Sam confirmed the address again and they headed up the stairs. The younger Winchester paused at the first landing.

"I don't want to go." The darker haired hunter leaned against the wall.

Dean crossed his arms. "I know you rather talk with Mac about whatever, Dude, but it can't be all fun and games." The older hunter headed up a few stairs. "It'll be like we're among your people."

"My people?" Sam frowned at his brother.

"People with the shining." Dean gestured to his forehead.

The younger hunter shook his head at his brother's remark. He followed him up a few steps. "They channel people-I don't do that, Man."

The lighter-haired hunter shook his head and smirked. "Well, maybe you'll learn something."

Sam continued up the stairs. Dean was right. He did not want to be among people who were termed 'freaks.' He was used to dealing with people with psychic abilities on a one to one basis-not a room full of them. If felt slightly overwhelming. He also wondered if this was a complete sham, if they were genuine or worse was there anyone there touched by a demon. It seemed unlikely since he had not received any demon connected visions.

Once they reached the fourth floor they were directed by paper signs to the correct room. Milling about were fifteen people mostly Hispanic and Latin American descent. The room was too big for the small crowd. It had high vaulted ceilings, a wood floor and tall windows. Metal folding chairs were formed into a circle, and just as Caleb had predicted there was a table against the wall with a coffee urn and some covered plates which Sam assumed were desserts. Dean headed over to the coffee, filling a cup for himself and brother.

They had a few sips of the hot brew before a tall, olive skinned man clapped his hands. "Everyone take a seat." He immediately noticed the two newcomers. "My name is Joachim. Welcome. Are you familiar with our charity work?"

"Charity work? We thought you talked to spirits?" Sam asked in confusion. Maybe this was the wrong group? He looked at Dean.

"We speak with tormented spirits to help them, our charity work," Joachim explained.

Dean cleared his throat. "I'm Dean. This is my brother Sam. We'd like to watch for now, if that's okay?"

"We just ask that you keep an open mind."

"It's open all right." Dean muttered under his breath for only Sam to hear.

"We ask that the spiritual benefactors be with us." Joachim raised his arms before sitting down again. Almost immediately a middle-aged Brazilian man spoke in a husky voice. There was murmuring in the group. Both brothers leaned forward.

"Why do I find myself in this miserable situation? Where are the angels and the heavenly music?" he asked, agitated.

Joachim folded his hands together. "My friend, we are here and we will help you. Your suffering will end soon."

The man began sobbing and then raised his voice: "Why do they call me horrible names? I never killed anybody and they call me killer! Where is God? Where is the light that was promised to me?"

A woman, her dark curly hair caught back in a clip spoke to the spirit filled man. "Do not be afraid."

Dean elbowed Sam, and jutted his neck out. Some of the members were holding pens, eyes closed and writing.

"Do not be afraid to give testimony to help others on their path to spirituality," another woman announced, reading from her notebook.

For the next hour people spoke up, all seemingly not using their own voice, but that of a troubled spirit. Then Joachim called for a break. He headed towards Dean and Sam, holding out a hand to offer a formal introduction.

"What do you think of our group?"

"It's different. . ." Sam started to say. The EMF detector Dean had hidden by his jacket hadn't picked up anything unusual

"My brother here, he gets visions. Being from Kansas well, people didn't understand. We heard about this group. . ." Dean interjected with a grin. Sam was slack mouthed, telling the truth sounded like a lie. The older brother shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe I have some sort of latent abilities—doesn't this stuff run in families?"

Joachim nodded. "Perhaps this will help. We learn -- just like the way a psychiatrist learns from his patient's problems. And we are also preparing ourselves. There comes a time for all of us to die."

"Been there, done that." Dean quipped. "Hi, I'm Dean." He introduced himself to the woman with her hair clipped up as she joined them.

She introduced herself as Celia. Dean smiled, enjoying her soft accent. "Come on Saturday. Sick people come for treatments. I have seen people cured from cancer and other diseases."

"By just doing this?" Sam asked.

Celia smiled and shook her head. "No, no, this augments traditional medical treatment."

"We also have more conventional meetings on Sunday," Joachim explained.

"So, tell me, are you guys normal? I mean. . ." Sam tried to broach the subject, but felt awkward. So far it seemed like people pretending, but so eager to help and hope for something more. He wanted something more too.

"They have a saying in Brazil; Catholic by day, Spiritist by night," Joachim said.

"He's a stockbroker and I'm a teacher," Celia replied. "I can give you some materials when we're done. Tells you a little about the members, counselors, and religion."

"That would be great." Sam gestured they needed to take their seats once more as Joachim was calling for attention.

At the end of the meeting, Dean and Sam remained behind, waiting to collect the information from Celia and to help put the chairs away. They said their goodbyes, Sam clutching the pamphlets and current newsletter.

They stayed hidden, waiting for Joachim to exit. With a safe distance between them, they began to follow him home.

"Happy?" Dean asked Sam as they entered the New York transit system.

"That we're conserving gas, yes."

"Dude, my poor baby is alone and defenseless up there." Dean looked up to where they had left the car parked on the street.

"I told you to leave the car at Mac's." Sam said as they huddled in a dim corner waiting for the train, and attempting to be inconspicuous.

"Whatever."

The subway was not crowded, and they filed into the preceding car. Once he alighted from the train they continued down a street and noted his entrance into a brownstone in Queens. Dean ran up to the door, looking at the names listed. "He's in apartment three. We can check it out tomorrow while he's at work."

They backtracked and found the Impala safe and sound. They entered Mac's deluxe building, getting the once over by security stationed behind their marble counter as they got on the elevator.

"Man, you definitely don't blend." Dean grinned at his brother, who replied with a raised eyebrow.

They entered the apartment chuckling. Mac was sitting in an overstuffed chair, a floor lamp shining light on him. His glasses were perched on his nose and a book lay open in his hand.

"Boys, have a good evening?"

"You know how it is, spend some time with the Spirtists, stalk one of the counselors and then come back to the bat cave." Dean flopped down into the leather couch.

Sam sat next to his brother. "Nothing unusual so far, the EMF didn't move."

Ames closed the book. "But you think there's something there?"

"I don't think they were channeling any spirits, but the guy who died admitted to being possessed. . . "Sam explained.

"I'd say you should give it a little longer." The doctor tapped his fingers against the closed book. "Maybe you want to call Bobby?"

"This hasn't risen to Bobby level yet. Hasn't risen to anything at all. Could be nothing." Dean leaned forward. "Problem is there are fifteen people there, and no one was forthcoming with information, though they want to adopt Sammy as their mascot."

The younger Winchester shoved his brother's shoulder. "We should still give it a chance, like Mac says. People don't ask for help before they shoot someone."

"If you give me some names I can ask a friend to see what she comes up with."

"She?" Dean scooted forward on the couch. "You've been holding out on us Mac."

Ames shook his head. He forgotten how little the Winchesters truly knew about The Brotherhood and the position of Scholar. They were after all the outlaws of The Brotherhood. Emily and Carolyn had grown up in hunting families, were in fact hunters themselves, but decided to use their talents in other ways. Emily was a researcher for The Brotherhood utilizing databases for secular information. Carolyn was the clean up person, trying to keep what The Brotherhood did a secret. Sometimes when the Winchesters were involved she would receive the intel too late to provide any assistance. Interestingly enough Emily and Carolyn both knew of the Winchesters, and wanted to meet them to punish them for making their jobs more difficult.

But Mac was not about to clarify Dean's misconception at this point. "Somehow my son has perpetuated a fiction of celibacy where I am concerned. Gentlemen, I am discreet unlike some." He stared directly at the older Winchester brother. "Dean, Dean, Dean, the stories I could tell you. . ."

"I'm a willing pupil. You always said I had potential."

Mac shook his head with a grin, noticing how Dean had used a comment in regards to school and learning to women. Ames always felt the young hunter had potential. He applied himself when it suited him. The doctor remembered when a young Dean asked to learn how to suture. Mac went to the local grocery store and bought all their chicken breast and a crate of oranges. By the end of the day Dean's stitches could rival that of a plastic surgeon. Mac also taught the twelve year old how to draw blood and give injections, figuring medical skills for hunters were always needed. Ames knew the interest was because of Sam. Dean wanted to make sure Sam wouldn't have any scars. He deserved the best stitches. Mac thought the older Winchester brother would have made a wonderful doctor, a pediatrician. "But it would be too hard to undo Caleb's misguided information. . ."

"Yoda outranks Obi Wan."

Ames continued to smile. Somehow he knew Dean would not believe the outlandish truth. It was better to be discreet. "So what's on your agenda tomorrow?" He changed the topic of conversation.

Sam glanced at his brother before answering. "I don't think you really want to know."

"Illegal activity?" Mac placed a hand on his forehead. At least he would be able to tell Carolyn prior to the escapade.

"I wouldn't say that," Dean drawled out, relaxing back into the couch. "Is it illegal if the person doesn't even know about it?"

"It is breaking and entering _without_ permission."

"But if he was there maybe he would invite us in?"

Sam pulled out a piece of paper, and brought it over to the doctor. "Here's that list of names, Mac. We really appreciate it."

He glanced at it then folded it in half. He stood up and stretched. "Night boys," he said with a wink.

"Ever get the feeling. . ." Sam started to say something to the effect of there was something going on, they were in the center of, but had no idea.

"Yeah," Dean replied.

They stayed up watching television before calling it a night.

They made a quick entry into Joachim's apartment. It was smaller than Jeffrey Simmons's, but very neat. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Again the brothers found themselves flipping through some books. Dean sniffed some candles he had found.

"Vanilla," he stated with a shrug of his shoulders. "Never heard of scented candles for any rituals, ahh, well, not these kinds of rituals. . ."

"TMI, maybe Mac came up with something on those other names?"

They met the doctor for lunch at a quiet café, Mac handing over a folder to Sam as he sat down. The benefits of staying with Mackland were not only free board, but free food. Dean's dream of something not out of a gas station vending machine was coming true.

They spent the remainder of the week investigating the other members. Dean had already made the decision to leave if nothing happened by Sunday. Mac's apartment was becoming too convenient and comfortable. Their rooms were clean and warm. It was calming that someone cared about their well-being. Dean wanted to share the secret with Mackland. The words were on his lips, wanting someone else to carry the burden, help him and guide him to a solution, but he held back. Sam wanted to face he demon and the so-called destiny head on. There would be no respite from others. They needed to move on soon.

On Saturday they made their way back to Hell's Kitchen for the healing. The room was bustling with people having one on ones with what the brothers assumed were counselors. Next door there was opera singing, and the sounds could be heard through the walls.

Joachim noticed their entrance and gave them a nod. The brothers waited by the food table. They didn't wait long for the tall Brazilian man. He also brought over another familiar face.

"This is David. He was at the meeting on Monday also."

"Yeah." Dean snapped his fingers in recognition. "You were channeling that really twitchy dude."

"I think we helped him." David spread his legs apart and crossed his arms. "You sound like you are a doubter."

"No, I believe that there are things that most people don't understand," Dean said solemnly. He glanced at his brother. "Supernatural in fact."

Sam glared at his brother, but David nodded vehemently. "If the Vatican expects Catholics to accept that Jesus rose from the dead, and that saints were visited by spirits then I think others can interact with them."

"Ahh, right." Sam didn't want to get into semantics about religion. He wondered how these people got involved with this group and why. As far as he could tell none of them had any real psychic abilities. He would have to ask Mac if mental abilities could be learned. "How did you get involved?"

"I was looking for answers to 'Who am I,' 'Where do I come from,' 'Where am I going,' 'What is the objective of my existence.'"

"Still haven't found Waldo have you?" Dean said, and blinked innocently when the others looked at him, as if he hadn't made an odd comment. The older Winchester shrugged and noticed Celia was there. He left his brother with the other two men deep in conversation.

He tapped her on the shoulder. "Thanks for that information." He pulled the newsletter with a picture of Jeffrey Simmons on the front page. "Mentioned some guy who had died in a hold up? What was that about?"

Celia shook her head, and stepped away from another group to give them privacy. "Jeffrey wasn't like the rest of us-he had issues."

Although the Spiritists weren't like the cults Caleb told him stories about, Dean still remembered he considered them a cult, which mean these people had more issues than most. "Like what?"

"Ex-wife wouldn't let him see his kids."

Dean rubbed his chin. "And he could channel spirits too?"

"Last time he channeled an elderly woman."

The hunter could not believe intelligent people thought they were calling on spirits. The EMF detector didn't lie; there had been no energy present in that room. "And he seemed fine?"

Celia shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe a little distracted." She leaned in closer to him. "We're going to try to contact him on Monday."

Dean knew Sam would want to stay. They would have to intrude on Mac's hospitality a little longer. "Can't wait."

* * *

Thank for reading and reviewing!

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Spirited Beings

**By:** Tidia

**Disclaimer:** The Brotherhood was created by Ridley C. James, and I thank her for allowing me to play. The rest is Supernatural.

**Author's Notes:** Thank you for the reviews. I hope you continue to enjoy. We're plugging along on this story and I hope I have answered everyone's questions.

Part 3

The boys decided to go to the Sunday meeting after breakfast. Mac had made them French toast, freshly squeezed orange juice and espresso for breakfast. The warm breakfast relaxed the brothers.

Sam took a sip of espresso, then put the little cup down. "Can people learn psychic abilities?" The question had been bothering him. He had asked his brother, but Dean had no viable answer.

Mac finished chewing his French toast before answering. "I don't know if their type of channeling actually utilizes psychic abilities. The EMF didn't pick up anything?"

Dean shook his head.

Sam replied, "No, but these people believe it and something is going on."

"Maybe they are transcending into a relaxed state. Maybe they are really experiencing past life regression."

"So they are talking to themselves? That's just confusing." Dean put another piece of French toast on his plate and poured on the maple syrup.

"They are hypotheses. I don't really know." He turned to Sam, and eyed him thoughtfully. "But you want reassurance for yourself."

Sam nodded. He looked away from Mac's glare, then looked up again. "I don't know what to do."

Ames noticed Dean shifting in his chair, leaning a little so he was closer to his brother, even though it was only an inch. He wished he had spent more time with the youngest Winchester, helping to cultivate his abilities. John's wishes had been unwavering-he did not want to acknowledge his son's gifts. "What I can tell you Samuel is that you can learn to use your psychic abilities with practice, overtime."

Sam nodded and relaxed. Dean did the same, then looked at his watch. He picked up his plate, his brother's and brought them to the sink. He gave them a rinse, placing them in the dishwasher. "We gotta go. Do you wanna come to a Spiritist meeting?" He asked Mac with a smile. "You could study them up close."

"As interesting as that sounds, I think I'll pass. I have some work to catch up on." Mac crossed his arms, looking smugly at the boys. "Jim would be proud."

"About what?" Sam asked, standing up.

"Going to church of course."

Dean frowned. "The man did have a partiality to Christianity."

Mac shook his head, again reminded how little they knew. Jim Murphy was an expert on all religions and also supernatural antiquities. "Jim wanted God to touch our lives in some way, whether is was at a church or in private."

"Private," Dean stated. He gestured to his brother. They would have to hurry if they were to make the meeting on time.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSSNSNS

The room next door to the Spiritists meeting was quiet but, inside the people were humming, discussing something important.

Dean found Celia, and pulled her from a group. "What's going on?"

"Beth attacked her neighbor." She wrung her hands. When the brothers gave her a vacant look she described the woman.

"She was the one with the notebook?" Sam asked, finally putting a name and a description together. "What happened?"

Celia rested a hand on her cheek. "We don't know. Just that she attacked her neighbor and he hit her over the head. She's at Downtown Hospital, and we're waiting to her something." Her eyes welled up.

"Let's quiet down." Joachim spoke into a microphone on the podium. Everyone came to attention.

Sam shuffled in with the rest of the crowd; Dean grabbed his arm, pulling him aside. "Save me a seat."

Dean pulled his cell phone out and went to the stairwell, away from the meeting room. He skipped the pleasantries. "Mac, hey, do you have privileges at Downtown Hospital?"

"Beekman, yes, why?"

"Great, you need to look in on a woman, brought in tonight, went crazy and the neighbor hit her over the head. Goes by the name of Beth. She's on that list Sam gave you. We'll meet you back at the apartment later."

Dean entered with his head bowed in piousness and slid in next to his brother. "I have Mac looking in on it," he whispered to Sam.

The service was more traditional with readings from the Bible. It concluded with a moment of prayer for Beth. The older Winchester pushed his brother to the door.

"What's the rush?" Sam asked.

"I want to check out her apartment, see what we can find." Dean stated as they made their way to the Impala. Luckily, the folder Mac had given them remained in the car and so they had her home address.

The police were long gone from the scene having more important matters to deal with than a crazy woman being apprehended by her neighbor. The yellow tape still covered her door, but it was quickly removed by Dean.

There was nothing unusual about Beth's apartment. Some new age items were scattered-dream catchers, magazines and candles. Dean entered her bedroom, his eyes zeroed in to her magazine rack by her bed. "Hey man," he called out to her brother, "remember that notebook she was writing in?" He held it up.

"That could help." Sam agreed. Dean slipped it under his jacket; they left the apartment and headed to Mac's to find out about his discoveries at the hospital.

They had to wait an hour before Mac returned to his apartment. "I don't know exactly how you boys do it, but somehow you find yourselves in the thick of it." The doctor hung his coat up and gestured they sit at the kitchen table.

"We do what's expected of us." Dean replied with a shrug. "What'd you find out?"

"Beth Anders had cognitive break. She attacked her neighbor because the music was too loud."

"I have the same reaction with Yanni."

Mac ignored Dean's comment. "Right now she has some intracranial swelling. She wasn't awake when I last checked on her. Her family says this is unlike her, and thought I was called in because there was a brain tumor." Ames shook his head. He didn't like that his presence gave the family false hope. "People watch way too much daytime television."

"We found this." Sam slid the notebook over to the doctor. "We noticed the writing changed, the slant changed." The youngest Winchester cleared his throat. "We were wondering. . ."

Mac raised an eyebrow before accepting the notebook. "If I could use my Zen—"

"Yoda," Dean corrected.

"Sorry, Yoda like powers and see what Miss Anders has been up to?" Mac and rested a hand on top of the notebook. He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

Mackland jutted is chin up then tilted his head to the side. "She was possessed by a distressed spirit." He kept his eyes closed as he spoke. "Seems to stay dormant then just attacks."

"Does the spirit have a name?" Sam prompted.

Ames shook his head. "It is as if she is a portal. Some just pass through, but some can linger." Ames blinked in quick succession before opening his eyes fully. "Call Bobby," he looked at Dean. "We need an exorcism plus we have to think about preventing future attacks."

The older Winchester brother dialed the memorized phone number. "Hey, Bobby, Mac said I should call you. We got a problem. . ."

"You all having a meeting without me?" Singer replied.

Dean rolled his eyes. This was not going to be a simple request. "Sam and I are on a job in New York and we're staying with Mac. . ."

"Must have had to twist your arm on that one." Bobby snorted. "What does he have three hundred channels on his flat screen tv?"

Mackland overheard the remark, and came close to Dean's cell so he could answer. "No one says he has to live in a junkyard."

"It isn't a junkyard. It is a repository of gently used goods."

"I need you to focus, Bobby." Dean stepped away from the doctor and closer to his brother. He then explained about the Spiritists without interruption, and about Mac's discovery.

"Sending an invitation just missing all that fancy engraving. People are stupid." Bobby answered. "You need to exorcise the demon in that girl, figure out if anyone else has brought along company and then make sure when they dial that number again the person who comes through doesn't get stuck in the switchboard." There was a pause as Dean heard the older hunter flipping through some books. "I'll fax it over to you."

"Fax?" Dean blurted and looked to his brother who shrugged his shoulders.

"Hell, what do you think that Josh is the only one who has gadgets?" Singer responded indignantly.

"Guess not." Dean was not used to having this much assistance on a hunt. He really didn't know how the other hunters worked amongst themselves. "Though I'm surprised you're comparing yourself to Josh."

"You're right. Drives that piece-o-shit Mercedes-gotta be overcompensating for something." Singer chuckled. "Tell Mac I'll be visiting him soon."

"Better start looking for a new place to live," Dean said as closed his phone.

"He threatened me with a visit, didn't he?" Ames shook his head.

A ringing phone could be heard emanating from the den.

"I'll get the fax," Sam said, exiting the kitchen. The young hunter returned to the room holding a few pages. "We got work to do."

**TBC **

**Thanks for reading, please review if you can...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Spirited Beings **

**Disclaimer: ** Brotherhood Au created by Ridley (have you started reading Wings of a Phoenix?) The rest is Supernatural

**Notes:** Twice I have written something and before I get a chance to post it, it shows up in an ep. Oh well...lol...there are only so many original ideas. Thank you for the kind reviews. They are relished, especially when my ego really needs feeding (like now)

* * *

Part 4 

Sam packed his backpack, filling it with everything they would need. Dean sheathed a knife at his wrist, rolling down his sleeves to conceal the weaponry.

"Gonna feel naked without a gun." The oldest brother rolled his shoulders back missing the feel of a 9 millimeter.

The young hunter shrugged. They were going to a populated building. Guns would be heard, then attract the attention of the local PD. "You can bring it, but you can't use it." Sam suggested.

"Temptation," Mac added, cocking an eyebrow in Dean's direction to see what he would do.

The older Winchester smiled, grabbed the gun and tucked it in the rear waistband of his dark jeans. "Bringing it."

Ames placed everything he needed in his satchel. "I'm going to the hospital and see about helping Beth. You boys call me if you need anything." He waited until he got a nod of affirmation from both of them. "I'll meet you back here when it's all done."

Sam carried the backpack on one shoulder. They settled into their seats at the Spiritist meeting after making their greetings. They were on heightened alert, but everything seemed the same as the last meeting.

Dean stayed hunched over; covering the EMF he used to monitor the room. He elbowed Sam to get his attention.

"What?"

The older Winchester held up the EMF. The colorful bars lit up, signaling the presence of something supernatural.

"Which one?" Sam whispered, scanning the gathered people.

Dean shook his head. "I don't know."

Sam bolted up, awkwardly finding himself standing in front of fifteen people. He wanted to dissolve back into his chair, but there he stood, committed to his part. "I am here. Where am I?"

The older Winchester covered his mouth. "Method acting?" he mumbled, but Sam could hear him.

"You are with friends," answered Joachim with a surprised expression etched on his face.

"I want to go home." Sam stated, knowing an uneasy spirit or live person were both seeking the same feelings of peace within their souls.

"You are almost there."

"Is this heaven?" He looked around at them, pretending he wasn't really seeing them. "Cristo!" he exclaimed, looking for a reaction from the rapt crowd.

Dean stood up and placed a reassuring arm around Sam's shoulder, taking the moment to whisper in his brother's ear, "Got him." He glanced at David. "It's okay; you can move along now and be with other spirits. Casper, I hear, is a friendly ghost." Dean stated louder for the others to hear.

Sam gave his brother a sidelong glance. Dean wasn't giving him much to work with, but he wanted to end the charade. He let his body relax into his brother who helped him to sit. "Wha. . .What happened?" The youngest Winchester blinked.

"Why don't we take a break?" Joachim announced, looking at the brothers strangely.

Sam stood up, watching how David was mingling with the others. The brothers walked over to intercept him when a hand pulled at the front of Dean's waistband.

He was surprised that Celia was pulling in him close to her. He kept an eye on Sam as he tried to sidestep the dark haired woman.

"Hey." Celia pressed into him. She was coming on too strong. He liked girls who were proactive, this was a bit much especially when there an exorcism needing to be performed.

As he tried to pull away he felt her finger his knife from the sheath. He went to grasp her arm, but she clamped down with an incredible strength. Celia pulled the knife out, brought the blade low and stabbed him. The blade went deep, stopping when it went through, finding its mark. He pushed her away with a gasp, forcing her to fall back into some chairs. He glanced at his brother who was blocking David's exit. Screams erupted because of his actions against Celia. Hands came forward to try to restrain Dean, keeping him from aiding Sam. He pushed them away, tried to get closer to his brother while ignoring the blood seeping down his leg.

David was the same height as Sam and pushed him to the side, causing the younger Winchester's head to smack against the window frame. Sam was stunned, blinking as blood trickled down the side of his head. David came in for another attack forcing the darker haired hunter to the ground.

Disregarding the pulsating wound at his hip, Dean came to his brother's side. He kicked at David's head, hearing a satisfying crack as David released Sam.

The younger hunter blinked in stunned confusion, then recognized his brother. "Help me up." he stated.

Dean aided his brother to wavering feet. Sam roughly pulled open the backpack, handing his brother the salt. David and Celia were getting up and everyone needed protection.

"Get behind the line!" Dean yelled as he poured the salt in a thick band. The room was large, but at least they were on the side with the entrance.

The Spiritist members didn't listen, instead deciding to aid Celia and David. Joachim pushed them away, getting between the possessed Spiritists and the rest of the congregation. "Listen to them! Go! There is evil here!"

Joachim pressed the people to the other side of the salt line, making sure his congregation was safe. David lashed out; grabbing Joachim's right foot and dragging him back, away from the salt line. Luckily, the Spiritist counselor was able to grip a chair and swung it around, hitting the possessed man on the side of his face. It was enough to provide an opportunity to run to safety.

Sam began reading the incantation as Dean completed the line. Celia tried to cross over the barrier to attack, but was thrown back. In rage she threw a chair which clattered over the line.

The meeting members screamed as David and Celia threw more chairs at them, discovering although they could not cross the line, the chairs could. The twosome sent one chair at the window. It fell with a clatter to the fire escape below.

Dean placed a hand on the gun safely in his waistband. It was tempting to take the gun out to provide a defense. However, the weapon would cause more fear and problems. Sam just needed a chance to finish.

Over the din of chairs and screaming a voice could be heard chanting. Joachim was guiding his friends to hold hands, forming a link. He placed himself in the center of the group and continued to chant.

Dean attempted to get to his brother's side as Sam wavered in reciting the Latin words. The older Winchester rolled to the floor as the podium completed an aerial turn and then crashed behind him. Sam glanced over to his brother, giving him a grin of relief. The momentary lapse cost him, as a chair careened in the younger hunter's direction, hitting him. Sam collapsed to the ground.

"Sam!" Dean crawled to his brother's side. But, Sam was still holding onto consciousness and reached for the papers, reading the last refrain. "Absum quod permoveo in ut a diversus locus!"

With a roar David spewed forth black soot from his mouth. Celia writhed in pain on the ground in a fetal position as the same darkness left her body, intermingled with David's destitute spirit and then vanished.

Dean reached his brother, tapping him on the face. Blood had seeped down from the cut in Sam's hairline. The older hunter reached for the papers curled up in his brother's hand. He lurched for his knife which had clattered to the ground after Celia's initial attack.

David lay crumpled on the ground. Dean dropped on the wood floor next to him and pulled the man's arm, exposing his open palm. With one fluid moment he cut David's palm, and placed it face down on wood floor, rubbing it back and forth to let the blood mark the area. "Is locus est venalicium," he repeated three times.

Satisfied the job was completed Dean struggled to stand up. His hip burned. He looked down and saw the dark was of his jeans was hiding the blood stain traveling down his pant leg. Sammy needed help more than he did.

There was a knock on the glass door of the room, causing the people in the stunned room to jump back. The members stepped away, giving Joachim access to the door. The counselor opened the door, using his body to shield the destruction in the room. "Sorry, we found two rats. We'll clean it up. Won't happen again." He closed the door before the person on the other side could react any further. "Help Celia and David. We need to clean this place up." He ordered as he stepped over the scatterings of the room and made his way to Dean's side.

The older Winchester had an arm under his brother's shoulder. He looked up when he saw Joachim, putting his hands under Sam's armpits and pulling him up to a seated position. "Do you want me to call an ambulance?"

"No, I just need to get him to the car." Dean again tried to wake Sam this time receiving a moan in response. "Come on Sammy, help us out."

Sam opened his eyes with a groan. He moved his feet trying to assist the two men. It was a slow going shuffle as they made their way to the elevator. Joachim pressed the down button, looking around to make sure no one else was in the hall.

"Where did you learn that?" Dean asked, feeling as if Joachim was supporting more of Sam's weight than he was. It didn't matter; all that mattered was getting Sam to Mac.

They entered the elevator. "My nanny in Brazil was an African woman. She taught me how to deal with evil."

Luckily the car was parked in front of the building, and they didn't use the subway system. "Are you going to keep doing it?" Dean asked as they placed Sam in the passenger seat.

Joachim shut the passenger side door, escorted Dean to the driver's side, and opened his door for him. "It is worth the risk to help people."

Dean nodded in agreement. "It shouldn't happen again." The last incantation had sealed the group away from evil spirits.

"Thank you," Joachim said as he grabbed Dean's hand, placing his business card in the hunter's palm. "If I can ever be of assistance. . ."

Dean curled his bloodstained fingers over the card and shut the door. He started the engine and pulled away from the curb. He fumbled for his cellphone. "Mac, we're coming in hot."

TBC

* * *

**Author's Note: ** So, I am slightly concerned about the renew status of our show. But, let's be proactive and not panic. Send a postcard or quick note to the following address and try to post on the CW message boards. 

**Dawn Ostroff****  
CW  
11800, Wilshire Blvd.****  
****Los Angeles, CA 90025**


	5. Chapter 5

**Spirited Beings 5/6**

**by:** Tidia

**Disclaimer:** Brotherhood AU is being used

**Comments:** Thank you so much for the kind reviews. I am so glad people are enjoying this--and the Dean injury was just for the readers. All mistakes are my own. Anyway thank you to my friends for sticking with me!

Part 5

Mac stood, waiting for the Impala's return to the underground garage. The black car pulled up fast as it cleared the open gates. Dean roughly placed the Chevy in park next to the Range Rover.

"He needs help," Dean said as he got out of the car.

Mac opened the passenger side door and saw an unconscious Sam with blood coming down his face. "Did he regain consciousness?"

"Yeah, he moaned and helped us get him to the car." Dean answered, wrapping an arm around his brother's shoulder as Mac did the same.

"Sam, come on, time to wake up." Ames patted the young hunter's face and Sam responded by opening his eyes. "Stay with me." The youngest Winchester nodded. "We're going up the service elevator. I already dismantled the cameras." Mac pulled Sam's hood up over his head, and then led the way to the elevator.

In the apartment Mac sat Sam down on the edge of the bed. Dean pulled off his brother's shoes. Ames had his kit set up in the bedroom already. He checked Sam's eyes for pupil dilation. With Dean helping to keep his brother in a sitting position, Mac put on the blue non-latex gloves and cleaned out the wound, determining suturing would be necessary. Ten stitches later with the wound wrapped he allowed Sam to lie down.

The young hunter was blinking, wanting to give into sleep. "Sam, you need to stay awake a bit." Mac rubbed Sam's shoulder to bring his attention back to the room.

Sam swallowed and licked his lips.

"Are you going to be sick?" Dean noticed the change in his brother. He rolled Sam to his side while Mac brought a trash can over.

After a few moments and deep breaths Sam spoke, "No, I'm good."

The doctor continued his examination. "Okay, tell me if you feel this?" The doctor poked Sam's palms and then the soles of his feet.

"Yeah."

"How many fingers to you see?"

"Double vision," Sam slurred.

"Okay, Sam, rest up. I'll check on you later." Mac pulled off the gloves, tossing them in the trash. He shut the light and escorted Dean from the room. Sam needed peace and quiet.

The older Winchester brother sat on the leather sofa with a groan. "I screwed up."

"Dean, in this line of work, injuries happen. . .granted, more to your family, but I believe it is because you have to do everything with gusto." Mac said with a smile. He sat across from the other hunter, a glass of brandy in his hand. "It's a concussion. He'll be fine with some rest and a limit on activities for awhile."

Dean nodded, then wiped down his mouth with a shaking hand. "It's not that. I haven't read the journal, Caleb's journal . . . I want to be able to help him."

"You do, and there's always time to read the journal." Mac placed the drink down and leaned forward. "You're worrying about this."

"I worry about a lot of things."

"You have always made the best of a bad situation. It was something I found rather admirable." Mac understood why Jim had chosen Dean as his successor to the position of Guardian.

Dean's eyes flared. "Sam was never a bad situation," he said vehemently.

"No, but growing up without a mother, with an absentee, driven father and taking on a parental role with Sam. . ."

"Dad was a good father." Dean shifted on the couch as he defended his father.

Mac gave a tense smile. John had kept a tight rein on his children. But, he missed his friend too. John, for all his faults was loyal. Most of all he had accepted Caleb. Ames wiped his eyes, feeling moisture well up. "I know."

"I've made mistakes."

"We're all fallible, Dean. You aren't held to a higher standard." Mac got up and went to sit down next to the other hunter. The younger man seemed troubled. Ames knew some of the pressures facing Dean and wanted to try to help. "That boy made it this far because of you."

"I've broken rules-nature's rules." Dean didn't look at Mackland instead he gazed out into the living room. "I shouldn't be here."

"Dean talk to me, if not me then to Caleb." Mac would track down his son if it could help this young man. "We want to help."

Dean shrugged, then looked down to his lap. "Broke that rule of yours."

Mac frowned in puzzlement. "Which one?

"Blood."

Ames recalled the rules he had set forth for the brother's stay in the apartment. But, Sam had localized bleeding in his scalp. "There wasn't much of it." He tried to reassure the other hunter he would never abandon them, especially for a small infraction.

"Not Sam." Dean opened his jacket showing the saturation of his shirt and pant leg.

"Damnit Dean!" Mac pulled off the jacket and then lifted the shirt. The entrance wound was at the hip.

Dean hissed, and shrank back away from the probing hands. "You know you and your son seem to think that's my first name." He cleared his throat. "Can we keep this quiet Mac? I don't want Sam to hear."

"I heard." Sam said from the doorway, gripping the frame to keep himself upright. "Damnit Dean."

"You too?" Dean asked at using the expletive with his name.

Mac brought his arm underneath the young hunter's. "Let's get you to a hospital."

"You can't." Dean gasped. He had been sitting for awhile and the blood had congealed making his pants stiff and pulling on the injury.

"Mac, can you help him?" Sam stepped forward, but then had to grip a chair in the hallway. "We take him to the hospital and the police will investigate. He's on the FBI's list." He explained.

"Damnit Dean." Mac glanced at each brother, wondering how they had gotten into so much trouble. The Brotherhood should have intervened. He relented. "Your father always wanted me to do surgery on the kitchen table." He half carried, half dragged Dean to the bedroom, giving a warning to Sam too. "You, stay put."

Sam slumped down in the chair, holding his head.

Mac shook his head. He would go back to get Sam, and bring him to Dean's room so he could watch over both.

He settled Dean in bed. He needed to get his kit. The orange EMT box was still in Sam's room. He took Dean's pulse first, noticing the fast rate.

"That's one of Caleb's mother's paintings." The lighter haired hunter commented, looking straight ahead at the swirling painting.

"Hmm, yes." Mac replied, more concerned for his patient than wanting to get into a conversation about his son. "Sit tight."

Sam still remained in the hallway. Mac fetched the kit first, then helped Sam along into Dean's room. He settled the younger Winchester in the recliner. He had hated the recliner when Caleb had installed it in his room, but now was thankful it would allow Sam to relax. "You rest."

Dean lifted his head up. "Sammy, Mac's a freakin' neurosurgeon, go back to your room."

"I'm fine here." Sam pulled the knob on the recliner to lay himself back. "You should've said something."

"How did it happen?" Mac asked as he cut away the shirt. He needed some towels to soak the pants before cutting them away them.

"Fatal attraction." Dean put his head back down. He felt as if body had been pressed to its limits. He didn't blame Celia. She has been possessed after all.

"Not too fatal." Ames quipped, hoping he had everything he could possibly need for the situation. He left the room to get some towels, water and the coat rack.

Sam had noticed Mac's worried glances. He wanted to keep Dean talking until the doctor returned. "Jesus, Dean. You should have said something."

"Had to take care of you first," Dean replied in a low voice. "I was still conscious."

The youngest Winchester's hand went to the bandage on his head. It was already itchy. He wished his brother hadn't felt the need to always be the hero. "We got to work on that complex of yours."

"Was that a compliment?" Dean asked with a groan.

Mac returned, letting the towels soak the pants to make the blood more pliable. Using the coat rack, he set up a saline solution, and inserted the IV into Dean's arm. He kept the kit well stocked.

The jeans were well saturated now; Mac cut away the material with trauma scissors.

"Shit!" Dean exclaimed as it felt like his skin was being ripped away.

"Almost there," Mac replied as the pants cleared the wound.

Finally, he was able to ascertain the damage. Blood had hardened around the point of entry, and was still oozing. It was a jagged cut, and Mac followed it, seeing the exit wound on the other side, which was also bleeding. "If he's lucky then it hit nothing and just followed the hip bone."

"We're so due for a little luck." Dean replied, grimacing from the pain at having the injury probed.

Mac removed an ampoule of morphine and a needle from the kit. Carefully, he measured the dose and then injected it into the IV.

Dean watched as the doctor worked. "The good drugs. I'm jealous of Caleb's first aid kit."

Mac set up a few needles of Novocain and began injected the entry and exit wound of the site. He would have to wait 20 minutes for it to take effect. He placed a hand on Dean's forehead. "Don't fight it."

Dean gave a dry chuckle. "We've been raised to do that all our lives."

Mac shook his head, but could see the morphine was making Dean drowsy. He waited, knowing the blood loss, and the exertion of the hunt would eventually cause the oldest Winchester brother to sleep. Fifteen minutes later Dean gave up the fight.

"He going to be okay?"

"Seems to have avoided any major organs, but he'll need to rest just like you." These two boys, so broken, needed more than suturing.

Mac washed out the wound using saline, cleaning the wound until the bloodstain was gone. The injury still needed to drain as it healed, so he used surgical tubing and closed the exit wound around it. He then packed gauze against it. The point of entry was a larger injury.

He spared a glance to Sam, who he had assumed had fallen asleep. "You're quiet," he stated when he noticed wide eyes watching him. "How's the headache?"

"Bad," the youngest Winchester admitted.

Mac knew a headache, dizziness and nausea had accompanied Sam's concussion. "It will get better."

Sam shifted in the recliner, which was able to accommodate his large frame. "Will it?"

His role as Scholar did not prepare him for these questions. He had to give hope, which was difficult when he dealt with facts and information. "It's the nature of things. Things have to get worse before they get better. You don't appreciate the good until you've experienced the bad. . ."

Sam snorted. "Are you channeling Pastor Jim?"

He wish the Guardian and the Knight were still with them. Mac sutured the injury, making small stitches to lessen potential scarring. "It's been a rough year, for everyone. You're hurt and tired, and everything seems insurmountable."

"Dean's tired. I don't know how much more he can take."

Mac placed gauze on the stitches then bandaged the wound. He was always amazed at the concern the brothers showed for each other, and wondered if that would of occurred if they had a normal upbringing. "He's worried about you too."

"I know." Sam couldn't provide any words of comfort. He had a grim future if the demon's plans came to fruition. "The demon has plans for me, to be one of his soldiers."

"The demon has plans, but I would say that you have plans that are different." Mackland looked at the IV lines, making sure everything was flowing properly.

"You don't seem surprised." Sam frowned, but the facial movement brought a stab of pain, which he tried to rub away. "Did Dad tell you?"

"No, Caleb always worried about his heritage and then you showed psychic abilities and . . ." He walked over to the young hunter.

"So Caleb knows too?" Sam confirmed.

The doctor nodded. "I believe most of the inner circle does, but we don't talk about it." He crouched down next to the recliner where the youngest Winchester sat.

Sam bit his lower lip. "There's more-Dad told Dean that he would have to save me, and if he couldn't then he would have to kill me."

Mackland covered his mouth in disappointment. John's legacy to his eldest was to burden him with additional weight. "I'm sorry." Ames apologized for their father, and placed a hand on Sam's arm. "Doesn't mean anything Sam- it is still about choices. Your brother knows that." He looked at Dean. Sam's destiny was on his shoulders. Mackland knew there would be trials, but ultimately it was Dean who would make the difference and save Sam. Egyptian legends, Indian lore and The Bible referenced one brother saving another. Although Ames dealt in reality, he also knew there was a basis of truth to be found in myths-supernatural battles had been going on since the start of man.

"He won't kill me Mac, and it may come to that." Sam failed to mention he had exacted a promise from his brother.

It would never come to that conclusion. He had been putting as many resources of The Brotherhood into helping the Winchesters. Good would win. "Have some faith, Samuel. I know it won't come to that. And I do not make promises lightly." Ames waited until he got a nod of acceptance from Sam before returning to his other patient.

Mac removed one more vial from his kit. He knew Dean was allergic to penicillin and used an antibiotic substitute, injecting it into the line. He checked Dean's color. The young man was still pale, but his vitals seemed strong.

Ames left the room, returning with a chair. It was going to be a long night. He had to wake Sam up on an hourly basis due to the concussion and he needed to monitor Dean as well. He placed the chair by the bed, and propped his feet up. "Get some rest, Sam, and we'll talk more about this in the morning."

To be continued...


	6. Chapter 6

**Spirited Beings**

**Disclaimer:** Thank you to Ridley for allowing me to use her Brotherhood characters. Thank you to Kripke for creating Dean and Sam

**Comments:** First all there will be a language warning. Secondly, this is the end with Caleb making his appearence I .cant believe all the reviews--waaayy cool. Shout out to: Irismay, Adder, Eaglegirl, gatorpez, bally2cute, KatieLB, SomeoneElsesDream, SilveKitsune, pinkphoenix, Nana and LovinJackson and to all those others who have taken the time to review. If you havent reviewed-- that's okay too. I just hope you all liked it.

Part 6

The moaning was better than an alarm clock to Mackland Ames, who relaxed back in his hard backed chair. He checked his watch, reading three in the morning and knowing it was time to wake Sam. He studied Dean for a moment. There was a sheen of sweat on the oldest Winchester.

He placed a hand on the young man's forehead. There was no sign of fever. One of the side effects of morphine was sweating. Mac checked the saline solution, deciding to swap out the bag for one more round to make up for the loss in blood volume. He injected another vial of antibiotics to keep an infection at bay. He felt someone staring at him, surprised to see Dean awake.

"How are you feeling?" Mackland asked in a whisper.

The older Winchester shifted slightly, then winced. "Like someone did surgery on the kitchen table."

Ames laughed. "I can give you something for the pain."

"Not morphine." Dean looked up at the IV. "You can't imagine the dreams I had."

The doctor moved his chair closer to the other hunter. "You want to talk about them?"

Dean shook his head, and jutted his chin towards his sleeping brother. "How's Sam?"

"I was just going to check on him."

Mac walked over to the sleeping young hunter. He gently shook his shoulder. "Sam, Sam, wake up."

Sam blinked a few times. "Huh?"

"What's your name?"

"Sam Winchester."

"Do you know where you are?"

"Mac's place."

Ames smiled, and patted Sam's cheek. "Good boy, go back to sleep." Promptly the youngest Winchester closed his eyes.

Mackland returned to Dean's side and sat down. "He's fine."

Dean picked at the flat sheets, tracing a circular design. "Jim's been talking to me in my dreams." He tried to gauge Mac's reaction, and found it to be open. "Not all the time. . .just a couple of visits."

"When?" Ames looked at him intently.

The oldest Winchester shrugged his shoulders. "To warn me or when I need help." Dean cocked his head to the side, knowing what the other hunter was thinking. "Which isn't all the time."

"And you want my opinion?" Mackland rubbed the back of his neck, wondering about the connection between the old Guardian and the new. Jim had never spoken about this possibility.

"Yeah." Dean nodded.

Ames thought of the safe answer he could give, any further reply would require some research. "It isn't uncommon for people to visit us in our times of need, and dreams are the easiest access point." Mackland told the truth, omitting anything more. He noticed his patient's wincing and knew the stitches were pulling. "You want something for the pain now?"

Dean was slightly taken aback by the abruptness in the conversation. Usually the doctor examined every facet of an idea and was able to engage in conversation for hours. Truth be told though, Dean was hurting. "My hip hurts like a sonofabitch."

The doctor took out a vial of Demerol, and inserted it into the line. "That would be because you have a hole there from some knife work."

"Guess that relationship isn't going to work out," Dean quipped, waiting for the pain medication to take effect.

Mac nodded. In a few minutes the young hunter would be asleep once more. "Rest up."

When Dean awoke he found the IV, which had been inserted last night was no longer present. There was just a white bandage at the point of entry. He looked over; saw the rumpled blanket, but Sam no longer in the recliner. He could smell the coffee, and glanced over to read the time on the digital clock. It was ten in the morning.

He pulled the sheets away, feeling slightly muddle headed. He knew the combination of the drugs and injury made him sluggish. He shifted slowly, swinging his legs and grimacing. A few quick exhales through his mouth brought the pain in his hip to a tolerable level. He gingerly placed his foot on the ground and stood, crumpling back with an oath as intense pain shot through his right leg.

He heard the footsteps running down the hall as he rolled on his left side.

"You're supposed to stay in bed!" Sam ordered. His face swam into focus with a white bandage across his temple.

"Ease back." Mackland helped him to prop himself against the pillows.

Dean closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to subside once more. He felt a hand on his shoulder. When he opened his eyes, Mac's hands were presenting him with a glass of water and a large pill.

He accepted it without a word or question.

Mackland took the glass back, and placed it on the nightstand. "The knife scraped the bone, and went through. I put a drain in, which will come out today, but you need to rest." He looked at Sam. "Both of you need to rest."

"Doctor's orders?" Dean rolled his eyes.

"Exactly." Ames crossed his arms. "No signing out AMA from here."

Sam snorted, absentmindedly scratching his bandage. "He knows all your tricks, Dean."

Dean's eyes narrowed on his brother. He knew the older hunter and Sam had been talking over the kitchen table, probably for hours already. "You are so lovin' this-geek heaven."

Sam smiled, and placed a finger to his chin in mock contemplation. "Wait, cause I get to talk about world events and research instead of road kill and gas station cuisine?"

The older Winchester could feel the pain lessening. "Well, don't get used it."

Sam looked over at Mac with a grin. "We'll bring you some breakfast and the morning paper. And then afterwards maybe we'll have a discussion about the condition of the world economy."

"Bite me." Dean grumbled.

The two hunters exited, chuckling at Dean's expense.

Dean wondered if the clock had a radio. At least he could listen to some music because daytime television was out of the question. But, Bobby was right, Mac had cable and there had to be _something_ on TV he would find entertaining.

The paper and breakfast were delivered by Sam, who closed the bedroom door and took a seat on the bed. "I told Mac."

"Told Mac what?" The oldest Winchester was still foggy headed.

Sam looked away, then made eye contact with his brother. "About the secret-everything." He waited for a reaction from Dean, but received none. "Are you going to say anything?"

"Not much to say, Sam." He picked up the piece of wheat toast, then put it down. Mackland had been a quiet force in their lives. He tried to bring calmness to a situation. Dean understood why his brother chose to confide in the older hunter. "Can't take it back. I trust Mac a hell of a lot more than Ellen."

"They can help." The darker haired hunter fidgeted for a moment. "Mac said they already knew I was involved with the demon. Most of the inner circle knows."

Dean rubbed his head. "I figured Caleb knew." There had been that awkward moment at the BooneDocks. "Makes sense about the others since Dad let us hang around them." Dean couldn't get mad at their friends for figuring out Sam's demon connection. John made it his mission to keep his sons in the dark, and he had succeeded. It was not the other hunters' duty to tell the Winchester brothers.

Sam hovered over his brother a moment longer. There wasn't anything more to say, only to accept the help that was being given. "Well, I'm going to get cleaned up."

Dean ate some of the toast and washed it down with orange juice, noticing there was no coffee on the tray. He would have Sam get him some later. He fingered the paper, reading the sports section.

He must have dozed off because when he awoke the tray was gone. He pushed himself up with a wince and noticed Caleb Reaves in the corner reading the New York Times.

"I told you we could handle it, Damien." Dean groused half-heartedly. Since Dad had died, the psychic was becoming a much larger presence in their lives.

Caleb calmly folded up the paper, and gestured to Dean's injury with his chin. "This is your idea of handling it, Deuce? Someone spike the milk and cookies?"

"Yeah well, didn't know they had an open line to vengeful spirit central, Lucifer." Dean could feel the throbbing pain begin to flare up again. "And we would have been gone, but your father won't let us leave."

"'Cause with a chunk of your hip missing you can just walk out the door." Caleb stood up, poured Dean a glass of water, then handed him another Vicopofen.

The younger hunter accepted the offering. "Maybe tomorrow."

Reaves shook his head. "Maybe."

Dean fixed his pillows to get comfortable. He knew why Reaves was here. "So you know about Sam."

Caleb sat down on the bed. "Yeah, I know."

"How come you never said anything, Man?' Dean tried to get angry, but couldn't muster it because if he did then he would have to put the blame on his father. He did not want to be mad at John. He didn't want to question the old man's reasons too deeply.

Reaves shrugged his shoulders. He had expected this when the truth finally was revealed. "It was only an educated guess, and would you have believed me?"

"No. I would have told you to go fuck yourself." The younger hunter shook his head. He would never have believed the worse about his brother. "Dad said it was a secret." Dean fidgeted with the sheet, pulling it up further then neatening it. "I figured I owed him."

Reaves looked up to his mother's painting. The darkness of the colors set the mood for the conversation. "Owed him?" Caleb didn't know what assumptions Dean was working with, but they were wrong. Dean always did what his father asked of him. Any debt had been paid long ago with Dean sacrificing everything.

"I should have died, Caleb. I was gone, and Dad swapped his life and the Colt for mine." Saying it again to his trusted friend did not help alleviate the burden, repeating it made it more and more a reality.

"Dean. . ." The psychic had already guessed, but hearing it come from Dean was heartbreaking.

"And so I had to keep my shit together- for Sam, for Dad. . ." Dean rubbed at his eyes. "I'm tired. Maybe you can help me convince Sam to give this all up. Maybe I can take him away from this. . ."

Caleb interrupted, gripping Dean's forearm, creating a bond between them and grounding the younger hunter. "Deuce, I always got your back." The oldest Winchester brother returned the grip. They remained that way for a moment. "Sam wants to meet this head on."

Dean released the grip. "Yeah, what do you expect? He's a Winchester." Although the younger hunter tried to make it a light tone, there was still intensity.

"So what are you going to do?"

"Protect him; make sure he makes it through this in one piece." Dean answered. It sounded fatalistic.

Reaves wouldn't allow anyone else to die. He was going to be The Knight and he would protect next Guardian and Scholar. "It's a plan."

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two hunters. "Are you going to spill the rest? Or keep imitating a PMSing girl?"

"Dad said if I can't save Sammy that I'd have to kill him." Dean placed the palms of his hands against is eyes. "Told me not to be scared."

Caleb reined in his temper. John had been cruel. He had expected too much from Dean, the impossible in fact. Over the years he watched as John broke Dean, molded him into that perfect part pit bull, part soldier he needed to protect Sam. It had been damn selfish. Caleb wondered if his mentor had done it truly for Dean or because he knew Dean was the only one that could save Sam. Reaves hoped to hell John did it to save Dean, and he had redeemed himself. "Sonofabitch."

Dean misunderstood, believing Caleb was mad at him, not John Winchester. "I know. I shouldn't have told Sammy." It had been a mistake to reveal the secret to Sam. It was like Dean was the scythe over his brother's head. "Sam made me promise to kill him if he turns evil."

Reaves felt as though the air had been sucked from the room. Sam was just like John, exacting a heavy promise at a heavy price. Caleb had to reassure his friend, feeling the dark thoughts the other hunter was emanating. "No, Deuce. Look man, I know you and I know your brother. Sam is not going all dark side on us. No one is going to let that happen."

"With hunters like Gordon around. . ."

"Fuck Gordon." Caleb didn't want to give into false hope, but there was hope-hope in Dean. "I said no one." The psychic swallowed. If it came down to it, Caleb Reaves as the Knight would have to pull the trigger, not Dean. Fratricide wouldn't be allowed because right after Dean killed Sam he would kill himself in some reckless manner. Reaves would have to make sure it didn't happen. "And Johnny was right about one thing-you can save Sam. I know it; Mac knows it and I bet that demon does too."

"I can't make any promises." Dean swallowed. He rubbed his mouth, uncomfortable with the trust placed in him. "Man, I trust you, for all your demon bad side I know you're one of the ones wearing a white hat. It's just I had to play this close to the vest, and I was scared of other people getting hurt."

"Wouldn't expect anything less, Deuce." It had been spoken like a true Guardian. Caleb spared a smile. "Get some rest. I'll see about bringing in some contraband later."

"You bringing me a hot red head?" Dean smirked.

Caleb snorted; glad there was some levity amidst the grim news. "No, some pizza." Reaves went towards the door.

"Caleb?" Dean called out.

"Yeah?"

Dean rubbed the calluses on his right hand before looking up. "Do me a favor and talk to Sam."

Caleb exhaled loudly. As he had said before, he knew the Winchester brothers. Both were stubborn and headstrong. "Not going to change anything. If I've learned anything about this shit, it's about confronting the bully at the schoolyard."

"Either you beat him up or he backs down." Dean nodded. He had dealt with a lot of bullies over time too. "And the bigger they are, the harder they fall."

-the end


End file.
